“What was the fear and panic?” Adam asked. “I remember rumors of her not sleeping and her governess trying to teach her how to calm.”
Her brothers had been at Eton when everything happened. Had any of them been home, would they have interceded? Cordelia would like to hope so.
“Cordelia followed Adriana everywhere, but not as an older sister, or playmate. As someone to protect, much like a governess, nurserymaid or mother. She’d wake at night, worried about Edward and would go to his room, several times a night until she started sleeping in there. Her days were spent with both brother and sister, doing as she was told and so deeply afraid that she’d fail them. Her deepest fear was that one would be hurt or worse, and then it would be her fault,” Madam Boswell explained. “She barely slept or ate because Cordelia feared she’d fail her siblings. And she took to hearteveryword that was said to her. The memories may have been erased, but the cruelty of his words and the burden placed upon your young shoulders had taken root.”
“As a child you were stricken with the pain of what was said to you, but as you grew older, you would have seen them for what they were,” Lady Chandos said.
“Words of a bitter old man,” Cordelia offered.
“Yes. And you would have decided to believe them or not as this comes with maturity. When the governess robbed you of that memory, she also took away the ability for you to apply reason to what had been said to you. She altered your fate, and you were left with the deep-seated need to make certain your younger siblings were protected and raised well,” Lady Chandos explained.
“Only when the governess transitioned your fear to that of water, were you finally able to believe you had some control. You finally slept, but it didn’t end your protection and supervision of Adriana and Edward. It just no longer encompassed your days and nights,” Madam Boswell added.
“My sister and I tried desperately to undo her spell, but we were unable to, and that witch was too inept to do it herself.”
“This is why witches have a bad reputation. Her and Miss Perkins,” Damon grumbled.
“The governess was the first time my sister and I ever had cause to report someone to the Council.”
“What happened to her?” Cordelia found herself asking.
“Her powers were bound until she could be taught and appreciate the responsibility of her gift. To this day, she doesn’t understand what she did wrong and, therefore, is a witch with no power.”
That was a small measure of comfort. At least she wasn’t out there destroying the lives of any more children.
“Even though the fear of failing Adriana and Edward was removed, what was expected of you by your grandfather was not. You took to heart supervising them and became a mother, governess, disciplinarian, and took as truth the awful things he said about you.”
“I didn’t even realize,” Cordelia mumbled. “I just thought, well, that…”
“He did that.” Madam Boswell’s tone was cold, brittle. “But something far worse occurred.”
Cordelia glanced up. “What could be worse?”
“When the responsibility cloaked you, your imagination and innocence of seeing the truth of Bocka Morrow was extinguished. There is a reason you’ve never seen a ghost, mermaid, or pixie. You had to set aside all that was considered fanciful by others to remain steadfast in your protection of your younger siblings. Your childhood ended that day.”
“Cordelia, I am so sorry,” Adriana said as tears flowed from her eyes. “I just assumed that you wanted to mother me and be bossy. I had no idea...All this time I thought you resented me for not listening to you that day and because you were the one who got into trouble, and then it got worse, and I got so mad at you and then we didn’t even play anymore.”
Her grandfather had taken away her sister. Not physically, but the relationship she could have had.
“I’m sorry too,” Edward said. “I always hated how you were always telling me what to do. Like Adriana, I just thought you wanted to be bossy when you weren’t my mother.”
“That’s because our mother couldn’t be bothered,” Adriana replied bitterly. “She still can’t be.”
“I should have stepped in,” Adam said quietly. “I just thought you had things in hand, but I…I should have taken over, especially after he died.”
“None of this falls on any of you,” Madam Boswell barked. “Yes, Cordelia could be overbearing at times, but that wasn’t her fault. That falls to your grandfather. He brought it all about.”
A part of Cordelia wished she didn’t know now. Being tasked with caring for her siblings wasn’t nearly as painful as hearing what she’d always believed of herself. Having sense and intelligence wasn’t so bad. It was hearing her grandfather tell her she wasn’t as pretty as her sisters, had no personality, and that there was nothing about her that was remarkable that had truly hurt her that day, and it still stung. She’d often believed those words and even told Ianthe that day that she didn’t see magic because she wasn’t special.
Oh, she’d tried to tell herself differently, but accepted it as the truth. At least now she knew where those beliefs came from. Yet, that didn’t mean they weren’t true, and that was what cut the deepest.
And Damon had seen and heard it all.
He probably wished that he’d never kissed her because then that vine would have never grown, and he wouldn’t be stuck with her.
“Cordelia?” Adriana asked. She seemed far away, but she was right there.
It was too difficult to breathe. The faces swam before her, all full of concern.
